Dear Bella
by lellabeth
Summary: December 22 is the only day I let myself think of you. I don't know if you remember, but I'd do anything to forget.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This idea started from something I wrote for the flash fiction contest hosted by Thimbles every week. If you haven't already checked it out then go and do so, because it's great.**

**Thanks to Astro for turning this from an incoherent ramble into something worth reading.**

**I hope you like it.**

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December 22 is the only day I let myself think of you.

I call in sick to work and sit in the window seat I had made to fit the contours of your body, my much bigger shoulders jutting into the shelves that bite against the top of my spine. I stare at the Christmas lights across the city as they glow in the darkness, remembering that smile of yours – the smile just for me – that makes them look dull in comparison. And then visions of twinkling white flashing across your veil-covered face enter my mind, and I press myself back into the wood and pretend that's what's causing the tears.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_Do you remember when we met? I can still smell the marinara that got embedded in my hoodie when you bumped into me, and I still smile when I remember how your cheeks flushed redder than the sauce. I knew you of course - the police chief's daughter come home, the new toy for all of Forks to gawk at. They stared and you faltered, stumbled and stuttered and grimaced your way through those first few days of the spotlight. Except when everyone else had grown bored and looked away, I continued to sneak glances at the glint of your hair in the sun or the way your sundress brushed the backs of your thighs._

_I'd pretend to be terrible at biology just so I could watch you arch over the microscope, watch the strawberry slick of your tongue as it soothed the chapped skin of your lips and imagine it was touching mine instead. You'd catch me sometimes, forever staring, and your wide eyes trapped me like pomegranate molasses, and I wouldn't doubt that there were moments time stood still as I watched the hammer of your hummingbird heartbeat against your neck. But you'd always look away just as I smiled, leaving it to fall just as I had fallen. _

_I'd hoped we'd finally talk after I had come up with some clever line to woo you, or after you realized you were desperately in love with me, but in some ways you smashing your lunch tray into my chest was better. You were so embarrassed that it was almost palpable and I got to finally be a guy who could take charge of the situation rather than one gaping at you mindlessly – though of course, that didn't quite stop, and me taking charge was more like buying you a new meal and taking off my sweatshirt. The way your eyes scanned my chest made me think my feelings weren't quite so one-sided though, and that's not something I'll ever regret._

_Unrequited love as a teen was raspberry-tart; as an adult it's more bitter than bile. I don't know if you remember, but I'd do anything to forget._

_Yours, always,_

_ Edward_

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**A/N: This is entirely pre-written, and I hope to post frequently. There's a banner and pic inspiration for this chapter on my profile, for those who like those sorts of things.**

**Thank you for reading, I'd love to know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading the first chapter. I know some people wanted to know more, but rest assured it will all come out in time. **

**I hope you like it! Thanks go to Astro, for braving American spelling just for me. **

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I sit up in bed just as the wounded cry leaves my mouth, my eyes darting around the room as I search for danger, knowing full well the only thing that can hurt me here is buried in my head. The soles of my feet arch as they touch the rough carpet below the bed, and for just a moment I'm blissfully lost in the sharp sting of the abrasive material against my tender skin. But then I remember a set of perpetually-cold toes that used to sit across my own in the light of the morning, and when I glance back toward the untouched sheets on what's still your side of the bed, the pain isn't so buried anymore.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_I had to change my shirt three times before I picked you up for our first date, my inexperience still allowing me to know sweat patches weren't on any girl's list of desirable qualities. I sat inside my car for 15 minutes before I knocked on your door, and the sight of your dad standing in his full uniform made me want to get right back in it. But you were behind him, flushed and frowning, and my shoulders straightened in response until I felt tall enough to answer his questions. You looked about ready for the ground to swallow you whole, and yet there was a softness in your face I hadn't seen before as Charlie told me how special you were and how lucky I was to be taking you out, and my heart hadn't ever felt fuller than when you turned those soft eyes to me as I told him I knew._

_There was a moment after I'd opened the door of the car so you could get in that panic struck – when I realized that you were a girl, a beautiful real-life girl who would expect some form of conversation. My tongue swelled as I thought of things to say to you, its insistence on sticking to the roof of my mouth mocking me, and I was rigid with anxiety as I folded myself into the cold leather seat that immediately clung to the sweat-dampened skin at the back of my neck. I jammed the keys into the ignition before I dared to look at you, not wanting to give you any chance to get out of the car once you saw just how hopeless I was. You shifted and so did my stomach, worried I'd blown it already. I looked over but couldn't meet your eyes, instead focusing on the pale pink of the only skirt I'd ever seen you wear._

_Then I realized you'd chosen to wear it regardless of the rain tapping against my windshield and it felt like a hand was holding my own as I looked at your cotton-covered legs pressing into the cracked leather of the seat. I couldn't stop my mouth opening of its own accord as I told you how pretty you looked and I wanted to take the words back as the air in the car grew stagnant, awkwardness sitting like another passenger between us. Except then you ducked your head down so we were eye-to-eye as you thanked me and moved your arm toward mine, and then the warmth of another hand against mine wasn't just a phantom one. _

_I didn't try to kiss you at the end of that night, but now I wish I had. I wish I'd kissed you every moment I could, wish I'd used pecks to punctuate sentences and as a replacement for words I couldn't say; as a balm for the words I did say but shouldn't have. I lie in bed at night and curse the moments where my mouth wasn't touching some part of you, because I'll never have the taste of you again. I'll never be able to reclaim those wasted chances. There are a lot of ways for a man to die, but there are days when knowing I won't press my lips against yours ever again feels like the worst one imaginable._

_Yours, always,_

_ Edward_

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter. I believe I've responded to everyone who asked about a HEA - if you do want to know, say so in a review and I'll answer.**

**Thanks to Astro for dealing with my love of commas. **

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I cry when I find your favorite CD amongst a box of things in the attic. I play it all afternoon and mouth the words to myself, even as my lips shake and contort with sadness. I listen to it on repeat, even when each strum of the guitar feels like another strip torn from my heart. I've spent so much time listening but it feels as if this is the first time I'm really hearing, the first time I've felt the words bone-deep. I imagine you sitting and playing the same songs over and over like I'm doing now, and my body jerks and lurches with sobs that fit perfectly with the melody. The CD player has switched itself off by the time I wake up in a pool of vomit the next morning, but even my whiskey-addled head can hear the words ringing clear through the silence.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_If I thought facing Charlie was difficult as your date, it was even more so as a prospective boyfriend. It took me three dates full of stuttered sentences and fingertips brushing before I got the courage to ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend. I'm glad I didn't have to see my reaction when you said no, because it was probably even more pathetic than I thought._

_Just as I was wondering whether you'd believe an ill-timed attack of dust was causing my eyes to water, you qualified with 'My Dad won't let me', and my pulse slowed as it became clear you weren't outright rejecting me. The hopeful, pleading look in your eyes made me realize you wanted to be mine as much as I wanted to be officially yours, and my heart rate picked right back up when I realized my only choice was to face Charlie again._

_I'd been distressed over the usual things as a child, frightened of monsters hidden in shadows or things creeping from under my bed in the night, but sitting around the worn wood of your kitchen table was the first time I'd felt genuine fear. While your father sat stoically, I made awkward conversation, getting more discouraged as time went on and he would only nod or give one word answers. I struggled for things to say, opening my mouth only to shut it again when stress made my throat close up. You didn't let me muddle along alone though, and I swear even through the denim of our jeans I could feel the heat of your leg as you brushed it against my own._

_I won't ever forget the sight of your face as I looked up to send you a thankful smile. You were disheveled from running around to make dinner, little curls twisting all around your hairline and a sauce stain you tried to wipe off near the collar of your shirt, and I don't think I'd ever found you more beautiful. The barest touch of my pinkie along the back of your hand was enough to make you look up, and the expression on your face as you saw the nervous lines of my own was filled with more tenderness than I'd been given before. You didn't smile, didn't do some sarcastic teenage face like you probably wanted to, you just stared with soft, affectionate eyes that splayed me open and held me tight all at once._

_Charlie's cough was enough to make you blush, but the nod he gave me after you'd turned away didn't allow me to feel anything but pride. When he said he suspected I'd be around a lot more now I was your boyfriend, I couldn't contain my smile – neither could you, nor the giggle that burst forth a second later._

_As we sat on the porch later that evening, with you holding my hand as if you couldn't imagine ever letting go, I couldn't recall a time I'd ever felt happier. Your head was on my shoulder but I felt it all through my body, a burning path spreading from my collarbone and outwards. You laughed as you spoke about how panicked I'd been, how I'd had to wipe my hand on my jeans before shaking Charlie's._

_You thought I was worried Charlie would shoot me, but the only thing I was scared of that evening was not being able to call you mine. I was terrified of being without you back then, but the reality of losing you was more painful than I imagined – though it was nothing compared to the gut-punch every morning when I think of you somewhere, living a life that doesn't have space for me._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: I hope that cleared a major question up for some of you. **

**Please let me know what you think.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter, it's lovely to see so many nice words. Thanks also to Astro for her valiant use of the yellow highlighter tool.**

**I'm hoping to post links to teasers for future chapters on my Twitter, the link for which can be found on my profile. I'd love it if you said hello.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

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There's a lipstick stain on the mirror in the bedroom, and today I do nothing but lie in bed and stare at it. It seems so stupid, so inconsequential, but it's as if that smudge is a part of you and I've lost too many of those to willingly wipe one away. I trace that mark with my eyes until they burn, and when I close them the image of blush-pink gloss on your lips is tattooed onto the backs of my eyelids. There's a flashbulb memory, a perfect picture of you smiling and laughing as I tried to wipe the sticky shine of it from my cheek, and no matter which way I turn I can't outrun it. The blanket over me tangles with my body until I'm trapped in more ways than one, and I give myself over to the pain that causes my body to fold. I curl into a ball, twisted into a comforter you picked out, and as the salt of tears reaches the crack in my lips I know nightmares don't only happen when you're asleep.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_Our makeshift prom used to be one of my favorite memories but now it pulls on the string connecting my stomach and throat, emptying one and clogging the other. I wasn't surprised when you expressed no desire to go to the Forks High Prom given that you'd never shown an interest in any of the dances before, though there was a part of me that thought Prom would be different. It wasn't, though – or at least I didn't think it was, until I saw the wistful furrow of your eyebrows whenever Alice spoke about her dress. I realized that you didn't want to go to the school's event but you didn't want to miss out either, and that's when the idea of a prom just for you came to mind._

_It took a lot of begging my mom for help before anything began to take hold, and it took me having to explain to your dad what my plan was before he'd agree to let me see any of your clothes to check for a size. The twitch in his moustache wasn't much, but it was enough to let me know I was doing a good thing for you. I made secret plans and covert trips to buy everything I'd need, trying to act like I didn't hear the pleading tone in your voice when you asked if I thought Prom was a rite of passage._

_I turned up on your doorstep on the evening of the dance wearing a suit that was too long in the arms and too big around the middle, and when you opened your door with reddened eyes I felt as small as the blazer made me seem. You were excited even though you tried to tamp it down, and all the planning was almost worth it as you saw the peach lace of the dress I'd picked out for you to wear. I can still feel the tense set of my muscles and the endless racing of my heart as you stopped directly over the threshold to the garden, the back of your head giving me no clues as to your thoughts as you took in all I'd done._

_The streamers began to look like cheap tissue paper the longer you were silent, the fairy lights I'd woven through tree branches seeming just a little duller. You finally turned around just as the black fist of anxiety grabbed a hold of my stomach, the shine of your eyes and the round bead of a tear near your mouth making it clench that much harder until I could barely breathe._

_The smile that came next made me breathless for a whole other reason, liquid relief spreading warm through my limbs. Your eyes were closed as we danced, as though you trusted me to lead. Your face was wet when you laid it against my chest, and it didn't take long until mine was too as you told me you loved me for the first time. Swaying slowly on uneven grass, I wrapped my body around yours just as you'd wrapped yourself around my heart._

_I thought I knew love then, but it's nothing compared to how much I love you now. Even after everything, even as I sit at a desk writing memories of a life that barely feels like my own anymore, I love you. I just wish all the tears I made you cry had only ever been happy ones._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely words on the last chapter. Reading reviews is the best part of my day.**

**Thanks to Astro, for not laughing at the ridiculous mistakes I make.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

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Chapter 5

I wake up around 3am with a hard-on that digs painfully into the mattress, and no matter how much I push my hips into the firm springs it doesn't fade. I make my way to the shower and crank the dial to cold, flinching as icy drops sear my skin. The water doesn't do what I want it to though, so I wrap a hand around the base of my erection and tell myself it's shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I picture blonde hair and an ample chest, imagine a toned stomach and lean legs, but before long I'm thinking about softly curved hips and freckled shoulders and the way your hair used to brush against my thighs when you'd go down on me, and as I cum it's your name that I cry out. It echoes all around me, taunting me as I watch the thick fluid rinse from the tiled wall. I step out of the bathtub, not allowing myself to wallow in how I feel dirtier now than when I got in.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_The day we first had sex was the best of my life. We'd been dating for months when our friends began to make jokes about what we must get up to when your dad worked a night shift and you were home alone. Your eyes went wide as your face paled, color blooming hot across your forehead and cheeks when you saw me watching you. Someone changed the subject before things could get too awkward but still you sat hunched over the hard plastic of the table for the rest of the lunch period, screwing up your face like there were hundreds of inexperience-laced jokes being made at your expense._

_You flinched when I moved my hand to cover the balled fist of your own. You unfolded it so our palms were touching seconds later, but panic was already sitting heavy across the left of my chest. More than the anxiety, I felt hurt – awkward, unwanted, rejected – as the way you'd yanked your arm away from me replayed in my mind. I sank into my chair as my heart sank somewhere to the floor, and I wondered how it could be beating so fast even as time seemed to slow._

_It wasn't until later that afternoon as I drove you home that we finally got to talk about what was going on. Though really, it was less like talking and more like you blurting 'Why don't you wanna have sex with me?', something which cut straight through our uncomfortable silence and caused me to veer into the other lane. After I'd corrected, I looked over in time to catch the tear dropping from your jaw into your lap, and it made my own eyes sting in response. I promised I did want to do that with you, trying not to point out that as a teenage boy it was what I thought about most nights – and mornings, and afternoons, and even the little cracks between them all._

_It was a week later that I led you upstairs to your room. I took your clothes off piece by piece, hands shaking but heart steady as I pressed my lips to skin I'd already seen and the new areas I'd yet to explore. Your arms wrapped around me so tightly that I felt the burning brand of them everywhere, even when you moved your hands to cup my face. My eyes flickered over your body, not knowing where to look first. You told me where not to look though, wincing as you apologized for not having a flat stomach and the stretch marks littering the tops of your thighs. My mouth against yours swallowed those ugly words and the ones that tried to follow, my fingers against your softest part soothing the rough edges of insecurity._

_There was nothing but adoration for your body as I lay on top of you, no room for anything but longing as I looked you over. I liked the small dimple where your stomach met your hipbone, admired the teardrop-curve of your breast, cherished the crinkles around your eyes as you came. Nothing compared to the love I felt when I pushed inside you for the first time though, my arms trembling as I forced myself to go slow. I held still until you shifted your hips, my low 'fuck' making you moan. I didn't pound, or thrust, or do any of those things I'd heard in locker rooms. Instead I brushed the hair away from your face and nudged my hips slightly into yours, the visceral pleasure that sparked somewhere in your body and passed over to mine causing me to speed up slightly._

_You didn't come but I didn't expect you to, and there was nothing but tenderness on your face as mine contorted. I lost myself in the orgasm that was just as intense as everyone boasted about, though I knew mine was made a thousand times better by the warmth of your hand cupping the back of my neck and the soft whispers of 'I love you' that made me float._

_Over the years we fucked a hundred different ways, made love a thousand times, and yet it never failed to live up to what I had experienced that first time. No matter how tired or busy or comfortable we got, the feel of you was never old. Being inside you was the closest we could get and it was the place I felt safest, as connected to you as you were to me._

_The problem with being one half of a whole is that when the other person leaves, you're stuck with this gaping hole down one side, and no matter what you do it can't be filled. I imagine someone else having the heat of your body against theirs, and I feel as if I'm burning from the inside out. People talk about missing pieces but this feels like you've torn the tabs from each bit until they won't mesh back together anymore, and I don't know if they'll ever fit again._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to Astro, for tolerating my need to hyphenate everything.**

**I hope you like it.**

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It's even colder than usual in Seattle this year, the sharp winter snap leaving the streets deserted. I find nothing in the fridge and freezer except alcohol, and so I start bundling up in preparation for braving the weather outside. I try to pull my thick jacket off the hanger in my closet, but only succeed in knocking it from the shiny plastic and way into the back. I curse as I get down on my hands and knees to retrieve it, and that's when my fingers brush against fleece.

My battered University of Washington hoodie sits tangled among clothes that don't fit anymore, and as I run my hand across the worn fabric I'm overloaded by memories that don't fit anymore either – you wearing it with jeans in the winter, shorts in the summer, sometimes with nothing at all on our best days. I shove it as far out of my hold as I can reach, trying to ignore the pressure at the back of my throat. I head back into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle from the third shelf of the freezer, and drink until thoughts of you are rose-tinted by vodka.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_The eight days we were broken up for back in senior year were the worst of my life at that point. I tried to tell myself you didn't want me and that I could deal with that, yet I couldn't rationalize enough to stop the twist in my gut when I sat next to you in Biology the first day post-my-world-ending, as I chose to call it, only to have you scoot your stool away. The desk was small enough that I could still feel the heat of your body along my left side, but I couldn't remember a time when I felt colder._

_I was shocked, and hurt, and too busy trying to scrape back what was left of my pride to beg you to talk to me, so I endured your proximity as if it didn't affect me at all. I watched you each day though, biting my tongue as the reddened rims of your eyes bled into increasingly violet circles underneath. It was on the eighth day of me being just Edward, rather than Edward and Bella, that a substitute took our Biology lesson. The video was one we'd seen before and I chose to map the web of veins in your neck instead of watching it again._

_It wasn't until you spoke to me that I took my first real breath that week, my lungs aching with the force of it, especially when it registered that 'stop looking at me' was what you'd chosen to say. I didn't think before telling you that you were and would always be my favorite thing to look at, and the grimace on your face chastised me for it. I opened my mouth to apologize but all that came out was air, over and over as I realized that we were done and I had lost you and nothing would feel the same, and the pain of it was too big for my body. My breathing got progressively more shallow until your hand landed on my knee, and then I couldn't breathe at all._

_I half-listened as you panicked and rushed your way through an explanation of how you'd seen my acceptance letter from Dartmouth; that you knew I wouldn't go if I had you to think about. I'd never felt anger toward you before, but I felt it then. I pushed your hand away from me, ignoring the soft noise you made as it fell back to your side. I whispered that it wasn't your decision, admitted that I'd never wanted to be that far from home, said words that I'd kept locked inside me throughout all of my father's anecdotes about his time at Dartmouth._

_Your voice was scratchy as you asked where I did want to go, and it was only seconds after I said University of Washington, your first choice, that your hand gripped my knee again. This wasn't comforting – it was desperate, your fingers grasping at the denim. You'd been making sure to avoid eye contact all week, but when I looked up your face was turned toward mine. Your eyes, Bella – they made me feel like the biggest piece of shit alive, even though you were the one to end things._

_They were sad and so was the set of your mouth, the downward tilt of the corners seeming wrong on your face. I let my index finger trace those purple circles under your eyes, swallowing when dampness gathered there. I traced a line down to those downturned lips, feeling the 'I'm sorry' that you murmured all the way through to my middle. I didn't smile but I did tell you I knew, and your smile was bright enough for the both of us._

_You stood by me when I told my parents of my decision and you held my hand when my father told me he wouldn't pay for me to go anywhere but Dartmouth, and you pretended not to feel my tears as we lay together on my bed together later that night. We went to college stronger than ever, love enough to smooth over a terrible apartment and the addition of ramen as a food group. We survived even when everyone told us we wouldn't, and some of my happiest times with you took place in that tiny three room home we carved for ourselves._

_There are times that I wish I'd gone to Dartmouth. I would have gotten a fresh start at one of the best colleges in the world, making my parents happy a lucky side-effect. Then I realize that wishing for that would be wishing away the four years of living with you while we studied – wishing away pancakes every Saturday and finding bobby pins on every surface possible, and the bone-deep sense of contentment that I felt coming home to you each day, and that doesn't seem like much of a wish at all._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: A few people have expressed concerns or impatience about the slow pacing of the story so far, but please trust that everything included is necessary background. Answers will come in the chapter after next. To soothe the waiting, I'll send out a teaser for the next chapter with the usual review replies this time around.**

**Please let me know what you think.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews last chapter. Just a reminder - if you have a question, make sure you're signed in when you ask or else I can't reply.**

**Thanks to Astro for always correcting my funny English word order.**

**I hope you like.**

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Most days, the fingers of my left hand hold no interest for me. They're just there in the way that all limbs are, and I didn't realize I could even pay so much attention to them as I have today. It was by chance that I saw the picture I'd taken for the company website years ago, buried under a take-out menu in a kitchen drawer. They'd sent us the proofs to check they were suitable, and I gave no thought to them at the time – except today that little laminate paper is venomous, poison coursing through my veins as I spot the wedding band wrapped around my finger.

I throw the picture away, and yet for the rest of the day I catch myself staring at the ring that still sits where it has since you put it there. It's bittersweet until I imagine you having a bare ring finger, or worse having one that bears a ring someone else bought you, and then I register nothing else but the pain that threatens to make me crumble into pieces and particles.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_Even after all these years, there are still nights I dream about our wedding day. It may not seem like a particularly manly thing to admit, but you always saw past any pretenses I made anyway._

_I told you many times how nervous I was about proposing, but that was a half-truth. I was a bumbling ball of anxiety as I asked your father for your hand – something he aided by telling me he knew where to shoot so as to cause the most pain. I was almost as nervous when trying to choose a ring, knowing that once I'd placed it on your finger I never intended for it to be removed again. Every time I thought of asking you to marry me, I'd burst into these panic-induced giggles that convinced me I'd never be able to propose._

_In the end you made the decision for me. I'd chosen to keep the ring on me at all times, not trusting that your endless need to clean wouldn't lead you to snoop in any and all of my hiding places. I'd been carrying it for five weeks on the night that I returned home drunk and decided to leave a trail of clothes for you to find on my way to bed. It backfired when I made it there, fully nude, and saw you already curled inside of the duvet with one arm lying on top of my side. I settled for molding myself around your warm body instead, and forgot all about my coat being on the hallway floor._

_Until the next morning at least, when you came thundering into the room in a tank-top and cotton shorts, carrying a pile of all my clothes. You were shouting about how messy I was and how you always had to tidy up, and how I'd even left the present I got for my Mom's birthday in my coat pocket. 'Box' and 'coat pocket' were the only words I registered, but it was enough to make me try to scramble out of bed. It would have worked if my foot hadn't caught in the thick comforter – so instead I ended up with one leg planted on the floor, one still entangled in the blanket, all while completely naked. And of course then you opened the box and realized it wasn't a present for my mother at all, looking down to find me on (what you assumed was) bended knee._

_You threw the box at me with a yelp and it bounced off my jaw, ending up somewhere under the bed. You scrambled onto your hands and knees as I struggled to get out of the duvet, finally letting loose those giggles as I realized what was about to happen. I rested my forehead against yours when you turned your wide eyes and disbelieving face toward me, my giggles and your heavy breathing the only sounds between us._

_I rested my hand on your chest so we were palm-to-heart, and I only had to say 'Will you?' before you were nodding and squeezing me so, so tight. It was as we kneeled there together, bodies entwined, that I realized I had been nervous about everything except you saying yes. I didn't know where I should ask you, or what fancy words I should put together, but I knew beyond any doubt that you loved me enough to agree. All that anxiety and worry had been only on the external insignificant things, and somehow that made me love you all the more._

_The following months consisted of you scouring bridal magazines and me trying desperately to tell the difference between ochre and burnt orange placemats. I tried to make the organizing easier on you, but it was difficult given my only job was to put on a suit and love you, and it felt as if I'd been doing one of those for forever anyway._

_There were days where you'd get a call from the caterer and end up in tears, or where you'd have to spend hours re-doing the seating plan due to an RSVP, and I'd be sorely tempted to call the whole thing off and take you to the courthouse instead. I knew this was your dream though, so I let you fulfill it. It was all worth it when the day finally came - all the planning and the saving, and those thirty seconds of watching you walk down the aisle made everything seem like the smallest effort._

_There are lots of memories I hold from that day, but the one that I hold the most sacred is that of our first dance. We spent hours choosing the perfect song, but the only thing I recall is the sway of our bodies as your head rested on my shoulder, eyes closed as you let me lead you. Your dress was white satin and my hand kept sliding all over your back. The small smirk on your lips told me you felt it, and when I asked you to open your eyes they were shining with laughter too. We held eye contact until the smirk turned into a soft smile, and your eyes shone for a different reason entirely._

_When we were safely in a hotel room later that night, you asked if the wedding was all I had wanted it to be. I answered that of course it was, and when I returned the question you told me it was the wedding you'd dreamed of. It's become what I dream of too. I dream of the day, and your dress, and I'll wake up and reach for you only to have my world collapse in on itself as I remember that my dreams are the only place I see you anymore._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think. The next chapter is where the answers finally begin, and I'll include a teaser in review replies again. If you would rather not have the teaser, just say so and I'll leave it out.**

** The next update should be Wednesday, seeing as this one was a day late due to FFn having a tantrum. See you then!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you, as always, to Astro. There were days that this was painful to write, and your words were what kept me going with it.**

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Most days I avoid giving my reflection in the mirror more than a cursory glance, but today I stare at my face for the first time in years. I see someone who had the best life could offer him and let it go carelessly, foolishly and in the worst way. I imagine you as a butterfly that I'd restrained for too long and kept caged, and as careful as I tried to be I still managed to crush your wings. I have the same remorse-laden thoughts everyone else does – not working harder at school, not going for my dream job – but my biggest mistake will always be not caring for you like I should have. I was content to live the life that I wanted, and by the time I'd turned around to see if you were keeping pace, you'd already slipped beyond my reach.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_The call I received to say you were in hospital was one of the worst moments I can remember. It felt as if the Earth had shifted on its axis until everything was tilted and wrong, and I struggled to drive through the worry that made the corners of my eyes wet. A million awful, torturous images went through my head; you in a car crash somewhere, or maybe the victim of some kind of crime, and I prayed to every God around that you'd survive._

_The look of sympathy the nurse gave me was contrary to her assurances you'd be okay and I half-ran to your room, frantic and frenetic in my panic. I didn't know what had happened until I met the doctor as he was exiting your room, and after that nothing made sense at all. The words he spoke were ones I'd heard before, but never would have associated with my Bella._

_He told me it was lucky you'd called the paramedics when you realized what was happening. I was too caught up in the words 'suicide attempt' to see any good fortune in the situation and pushed my way past him, convincing myself that they must have been wrong. You'd probably been holding the razor and slipped, I thought, fully prepared to see you rolling your eyes as I burst through the door._

_Yet I didn't see anything but the back of your head as you turned your face toward the window, and the sight of white gauze around your wrist made my mouth dry. I stumbled toward the bed and stared at the thin red line that had transferred through the bandage, parallel to the one you'd tried to end your life with. I ground my molars against one another in an attempt to stop the sound bubbling inside me from getting out. It still managed though, a wounded cry punching the space between us hard enough to make you flinch._

_I still held on to the sliver of hope wedging itself into my heart that told me this was all a big mistake, and I opened my mouth ten times over to ask what had happened. The only words that I managed were 'you want to die?' and I didn't think anything before had felt as bad as watching the tear trailing down your cheek in response. You dipped your chin the smallest amount, indicating that you had done this all on purpose, and then I knew that was the worst anything had ever felt. Pain and hurt were liquid inside me and I was overcome, falling into the nearest seat and trying to pretend my shoulders weren't shaking from sobs._

_I listened as you told me that you were tired of fighting - I hadn't even known there was a battle. I winced as you said things were always dark, not realizing our life was anything but bright light. I ached as you told me there was a void inside you and I felt a crack in my chest form when you told me how you'd felt so alone with no way out. The weight of your words was a ten-pound block sitting directly on my lungs, and as I imagined the ribboned skin on each of your arms it only got heavier._

_It was only when you began apologizing, shame lacing the words together, that I stood from the chair. I pulled you into me, my arms strong and tight and suffocating. I wove myself around you until I was pressing your limbs to your torso, as if I could hold all the broken pieces there together. I kissed your hair over and over while you leaned your body against mine, the cries that came from deep inside your stomach swaying us both._

_We stayed like that for what felt like hours and when I told you I loved you it burned like sandpaper against an open wound. I told you I needed you and asked if it was enough, and I prayed the nod you gave was sincere. You asked if I thought love was enough, and my tears were tart against my tongue when I nodded and said it was._

_The three days of your stay in the psychiatric ward felt like the longest of my life. I sat in our empty house every night, looking at each object around me as a weapon you might use to harm yourself with. I bleached the bathtub that was still covered in congealed blood, and I cried as I watched the red swirl down the drain. I walked around adrift, picturing what my life would be like without you in it._

_You may not have killed yourself, but I lost you that day anyway. It felt as if I'd lost the girl I'd known for years and wouldn't ever be able to find her again. I am a man filled with regrets, and the biggest of them all will forever be failing to provide you with a life you felt was worth living._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: I know things still aren't too clear, but the rest will come in the next chapter which will post on Saturday.**

**This was a difficult one, so I would appreciate hearing your thoughts on it. **


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks to Astro, for being so much more than a human spellcheck. **

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This year it begins earlier than usual. I walk home on December 19, smiling as I see the ice rink set up in the city. I'm almost home when I hear 'Daddy! Daddy, please!' and I turn to see a small girl giggling with her father ten feet away. She has dark eyes and hair with a nose similar to yours, and I have to get away. I almost run home, slamming the door of the house behind me. I rush into the hallway and trip on the rug, my knees buckling and then slapping against the tiled floor. I don't bother to get back up again. I call work to tell them I have a sudden flu and won't be in for the rest of the week, and then I press my face into the carpet and wonder how much more I can be punished.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_Those months following your release from hospital were full of tears and exhaustion. I tried so hard to reconnect and yet we seemed worlds apart, a pair that used to fit but were now bent out of shape too badly to do so. You were brutally honest about your feelings and I was filled with guilt and self-loathing, too caught up in my own condemnation to see what you needed. It wasn't the provider that I worked 14 hour days to be; not the overbearing babysitter that I became. Instead you just needed me, and I failed to give you that. I scolded you for not sharing more of yourself in the months before, never seeing the irony in how closed off I had become._

_I tried so hard that it seemed that I wasn't trying at all. Not in the ways you ached for. You asked to spend more time together and we did so, and I'd ask about how you felt and whether you were better yet, and I'd pretend not to see the disappointment on your face. Having those words between us was better than having nothing at all. There was so much love but so little understanding; nights when you would cry yourself to sleep and I'd do nothing but hold you because I didn't know how to comfort anymore._

_We lived in a strange kind of limbo, interacting without saying anything that mattered. You insisted there wasn't a weight on my shoulders but I felt it all the same anyway, sure that one wrong move would send everything toppling down. The words we were both too scared to say sat like a fault line between us, swallowing up anything we had left. I clung on to any ties I could. They were frayed and straining but I pulled anyway, trying to convince both of us that we could force our marriage to work._

_When I got another hospital call on December 22, four months after the first one, I was sure you'd tried to take your own life for a second time. You'd been detached and apathetic thanks to the medication you were on, refusing to go back to the doctor seeking another despite how hard I pleaded for you to do so. That was how I ended up running down a hospital corridor for the second time, a sick sense of some form of inevitability turning my stomach._

_What I found in your room will haunt me for the rest of my life. You were crying, if I can call it that – wailing almost, these deep mournful cries so unlike anything I'd seen since you returned from the hospital. I flitted my hands across your body before you smacked them away, and I was both relieved and scared by the lack of anything but an IV adorning your arm. You looked manic, all red-faced with snot and tears mingling around your mouth, and I'd never been more scared._

_You kept hitting me over and over, and I didn't understand why until I'd grabbed your wrists and asked the doctor what was happening. She suggested we speak outside, but my patience was fraught enough. I insisted she tell me then and there, and that was just another way I failed you. As soon as the word 'miscarriage' passed her lips you let out this throaty, wounded noise that cut me in two. I tried to wipe your tears away even as my own began to drip onto your blanket._

_You shouted and you screamed, and I realized you must have gotten pregnant the one time we'd tried to have sex after you'd come home. You were worried it wouldn't feel the same but I assured you it would, and I tried to prove it by loving you with my body and healing the places where my words had failed. It was just as awkward as you feared it would be, and the emotionless look on your face throughout forced me to look away. I'd barely finished coming before you were pushing me off you and cursing me for not using a condom, saying of course you hadn't bothered with birth control. You told me you couldn't be a mother at that time or maybe even ever, and I kissed your scrunched eyelids and told you everything would be okay._

_It wasn't the first lie I told you, but the flat brown of your eyes told me it would be the last. You told me your father would come to the house and collect your things; that you needed time to heal away from the things that could hurt you. I didn't realize you meant me until you pulled your arms back from mine and turned your back to me, your body like a child's as you lay under the blanket and made whimpering noises that broke something inside me. I tried to run my hand across your back but you tensed until I had no choice but to remove it. Even when I walked around to the side you were facing to kiss your forehead and tell you I wouldn't let you go that easily, you simply closed your eyes and lay as still as stone. I vomited as soon as I left the hospital doors, but I held back on crying until I got into my car. I shut the door and laid my head on the steering wheel, and this time I didn't try to fight the anguish pooling inside me._

_I told myself that you could forgive how inattentive I'd been to you over the years. I thought you'd see my love for you and realize you couldn't live without me. The truth was, you weren't living with me anyway – you were existing, some hollow interpretation of the person you used to be. I accepted Charlie's hug when he came to collect your things, and maybe that's when I knew you weren't coming back. He said that if I loved you I'd stay away and let you get better, and so I did._

_I thought you'd come back, Bella._

_When you sent the divorce papers was when I realized you never would. I thought what we had was unbreakable, but maybe the foundations had crumbled without me realizing. The last time I saw you was in that hospital bed, and then once more as we sat across a table discussing divorce proceedings you set in motion._

_Mourning the loss of our child was difficult enough. It felt like I had picked up sand and held it in my hand, only for it to slip through my fingers before I could really register it was ever there at all. It felt wrong to miss something I hadn't ever had, but at the same time I felt our child wherever I went. I would feel a warm breeze and think of you with a baby bump, or see a sunset from my office window and imagine going home to you both._

_I still think of the baby every day. I can't see a child without my stomach clenching, and I can't hear the word 'Daddy' without all the times I've missed out on choking me. I am the type of sad that you can't ever fix, only gloss over and try to forget. It sits inside me and worms its way into every happy moment I have, souring everything with the acidic overtone of 'what if'._

_Knowing our child would never be was the type of pain that's so fierce and intense that it leaves you numb, your body succumbing to its natural urge to protect itself. Knowing that you were through with me and that this wouldn't be the only child we'd never have was a different type of hurt. It wasn't the type that turns from thick stem into spindly branches, ebbing away over time, but rather instead it rekindles itself every day until it's blinding. It brings you in and sucks the air out until you're trapped. The pain doesn't fade or falter, and each morning I wake up and feel as if I'm burning from the inside out. I pray that you don't feel the same._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N:** **Please let me know what you think. **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you to all those who are still with me after the sadness of the last two chapters, and hi to any new readers!**

**Thank you also to Astro, for working endlessly to make this readable. **

* * *

For the first time in years, you aren't the first thing that enters my mind the morning of December 22. Unfortunately that's only due to everything being flu-hazy, and I fear my lie about being sick last year has come back to bite me hard. I stay in bed like usual but this year I do nothing except sleep, and the dreamless rest I get makes me wish I could be sick like this more often. I realize I haven't written your yearly letter and that you won't receive it on time. I wonder whether you'll even notice or if it'll just be one less piece of paper to throw in the trash, and it leads me to make a decision. This time, the tears that sink into my pillow are purely cleansing.

**DB**

_Dear Bella,_

_This is the last letter I'll write to you. I don't know if you received the others – for all I know, Charlie's thrown them away before you could even see them, but that's probably me making excuses for why you haven't responded._

_The truth is that my happy memories with you will always outweigh the bad ones. Our bad is deep and dark, and yet there's so much good to be found in what we had. You're a part of me that I won't ever shake, but I'm beginning to think I need to at least try. I still wear my wedding band almost a decade on from the dissolution of our legal ties to one another, and I still tell girls who show an interest that I'm married._

_At first I told myself it was because you'd move back home before too long, even when the divorce proved me wrong. I moved on to thinking we'd get back together and even when years passed, I clung to that like a life raft. These days I wonder how much of it is down to a need to protect myself from possibly being hurt again. I imagine having someone to chase away the loneliness that constricts its way around my heart, and I'd be lying if I said there weren't days I crave it._

_Deep down I know it wouldn't be the same, though. They wouldn't sigh in their sleep or hold my hand every chance they got, and even if they did it wouldn't matter. Nothing would matter, because it wouldn't be you. So I'm stuck in this self-imposed limbo between being alive and being dead, because even though I'm breathing I don't live. I haven't lived since you walked out, Bella, and I'm tired of it._

_I will never stop loving you. It's not meant to sound trite or dramatic, just plain fact: there will never be a day that I don't love you with all my heart. There are days when I'm livid with you for giving up on our marriage but I remember that to you, I seemed to give up long before you did. I feel as if I've been stuck in purgatory since you've been gone, and I think loving you may be a penance I have to carry out for the rest of my life._

_I pray each day that you've found whatever it is you lost in the last years of our marriage. I hope you've filled the void that plagued you, and that you wake up each day with a smile on your face. Mostly though I wish for you to be happy, now and always._

_There are many things I want to apologize for but for now, just know that for every bit of hurt I caused you, I'd take it back tenfold if I were able. I'm sorry, Bella, for everything._

_Goodbye is a sad, final sort of word, so instead I'll settle for this: I miss you, I love you and I'll see you in my dreams._

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: Have patience. There's something of a surprise planned for the next chapter.**

**Dear Bella is nominated over at The Lemonade Stand for Fic of the Week, alongside lots of other wonderful stories. You can probably guess that this caused me much happy flailing and excitement! I'd be eternally grateful if you would check out the site and consider voting for it.**

**Please let me know what you think. **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I thought it was about time we heard what Bella had to say. In case anyone gets confused about which letter she's replying to, 2001 = chapter 1 of DB, 2002 = chapter 2 and so on.**

**Thanks to Astro, for everything.**

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December 31, 2001

_Edward,_

_Your letter has been sitting on my dresser since it arrived, but my hands shook too badly to open it. I didn't want to read it and yet I did so anyway, the pull of you too strong to ignore. I read it and I ached, and I told myself I wouldn't reply. Except I feel like I have to; feel like there are words filling me up and pushing at my insides, clawing to get out. I'm drowning in them; suffocating slowly under their weight and choking from the heavy lump they cause in my throat. You'll never see them, but I need them gone. They hurt me every day and I hope they'll trickle like ink, bleeding into the paper and leaving me alone._

_Of course I remember how we met. I remember the colour of your eyes, which always seemed to be staring my way, and I remember how they'd cause a heat in my cheeks every time. I'd wait until you looked away and then I'd take in your hair and how it was just long enough to brush those broad shoulders. You were never the only one looking._

_I remember, Edward, even on the days I wish I wouldn't. Your love was never unrequited, and it still isn't now. It feels like you're etched into my bones and I'll never be rid of you, and I wonder how long a heart can break for._

_Bella_

*DB*

December 31, 2002

_Edward,_

_Our first date was my first with any boy, though the way my heart pounded while I waited for you to arrive made me wish it wasn't. I had to beg Charlie to let me go and even then he insisted on meeting you. I was mortified by the gun on his hip and the bob of your Adam's apple made it clear you weren't keen either, but you braved it all for me anyway._

_We may have only held hands that night, but it feels like a disservice to pretend it was a small gesture. If I try hard enough I can still feel the rub of your thumb across my knuckles, and I'll forever wonder how that small touch was enough to spark the flush of first love._

_The worst death is the one I live through every day - the one that second by second takes me further away from you, and it's all my fault. Time is the ultimate killer. It steals the most precious of things from us. My memories are its victim every day, and so I lose my grasp on all that remains of you now._

_Bella_

*DB*

December 31, 2005

_Edward,_

_Having sex with you for the first time was one of the most frightening things I've ever done. I'd always been a little softer than the other girls - not enough to be teased, but enough that it was noticed. Not by you, though - never by you. The only disparaging thought you had toward my body was the sadness you felt that I couldn't love it how you did. You hid it well, but the tight lines around your eyes gave you away whenever I'd move your hand away from a part I'd deemed too fat to touch._

_It wasn't until you were taking my clothes off that I realised I had to be naked to do _it_ and then my mouth kicked into overdrive. Every roll and stretch mark played on a loop in my head until I was sure you would leave, but instead your mouth pressed against mine with so much softness. You loved me with your fingers and your words, and I loved you with hands that rubbed your back when you came within a minute._

_My pieces don't seem to fit right anymore either - though I question whether they ever did, or whether your love just bound them together well enough that they seemed to. I haven't felt whole for a long time, but being with you was the closest I've come._

_Bella_

*DB*

December 31, 2007

_Edward,_

_Your proposal may have been perfect for us, but the months before the wedding broke me. I looked through bridal magazines; spent hours poring over happy, thin women and smiling men. Except I wasn't thin, and my happiness had always been edged with sad, and I wondered if I could even get married at all. The weight of the engagement ring on my finger became one of obligation; a symbol of the big wedding I felt pressured to have._

_I spent the morning of our wedding being sick in the church bathroom, my nerves making my skin slick with fever. Our mothers scolded me as they fixed my make-up, and the smile I plastered on seemed just another fake enhancement meant to make me look a part I wasn't sure I could play._

_I didn't feel calm until I was in your arms for the first dance, finally knowing all the planning and worrying how I looked for wedding pictures was behind me. You held me in your arms and I pictured you as my metaphorical life raft, buoying me even when I felt sure I would sink. I smiled properly for what felt like the first time in months, and the sigh I exhaled as I buried my head in your neck was one of relief._

_I still wonder if the pressure of the wedding was what caused the seed of darkness that had always been present to finally take root within me. Our love blossomed but it did too; the thorny vines of depression curling their way slowly around my body. Everyone told me to enjoy the honeymoon period, and yet I had nothing but a stomach full of dread._

_My dreams are the only place I see you too, and I revel in them because of it. The nightmare only begins when I wake up and realise just what I walked away from._

_Bella_

*DB*

December 31, 2008

_Edward,_

_What happened the day I ended up in hospital is still too hazy for me to remember. In some ways it felt like I had slipped in the shower - nothing more than a split-second mistake with awful consequences. One second I was thinking how much better your life would be with a happy wife who could love you in all the right ways and the next I was watching blood drip from my wrist; the foamy-white of the bathwater staining pink all around me._

_I may not have meant to do it but the frayed skin didn't lie. At first I watched the steady flow of red as it travelled around my hand; worming its way into the spaces between my fingers and coating the silver sheen of my engagement and wedding rings. That was when I realized what I'd done - the image of you arriving home to find me dead in the bathtub, the place we'd shared some of our most intimate moments, slamming into my mind. I pictured you holding a limp, water-wrinkled body, and it pushed me to get out of the bath and to a phone._

_I didn't cry when the ambulance arrived, nor when the doctor wrapped my arm with itchy fabric. The first tears started when you let out a breath that turned into a sob, my heart squeezing so tight as you cradled my ribboned wrist in your hands. I'd felt down before but this was the first time I ever felt low, the way your chest heaved in my periphery making me feel so small. You asked if I wanted to die and I definitely wanted to then, if only so I wouldn't have to hear the hurt-thickened rasp of your voice._

_You sat in the nearest chair and folded in on yourself, and I was so scared that everything poured out. It was as if I'd robbed you of the strength you always had, and it caused a deluge of words that I'd kept hidden for years to finally make their way out. I told you how I'd felt different from everyone else growing up, always a little more melancholy than other children. It only grew worse as I got older but it was easily attributed to teenage angst. I moved to Forks because Renee didn't know how to deal with a daughter who cried more than she smiled, and then I was so swept up in you that I almost forgot about the cracks running right through me._

_I didn't mean to hide it, but there was never a good time to tell you - mostly because I didn't have a name for it. I just knew there were days when getting out of bed seemed impossible. I'd make you breakfast, our legs entwined under the table as we ate. You'd go off to read the newspaper and I would get in the shower, and then I'd crumble. I would ball my hand into a fist, biting down on my knuckles to muffle the anguished scream that tore its way out of my throat. I'd sit under the spray and cry until I retched, wondering why I could only be numb or in such pain._

_The truth is that my life hadn't felt worth living for a long time, and yet you were always worth fighting for. I made an awful mistake but the thought of you was what saved me from it. Those thoughts continue to save me now, and yet I lay awake at night and wonder who's saving you._

_Bella_

*DB*

December 31, 2009.

_Edward,_

_I left because I felt I had failed you. I failed as a wife, and that wound re-opened with every cautious look you sent my way. We'd never been tentative but suddenly we were, and it was just another example of how I held you back. I tortured myself by imagining you with a wife that you didn't have to monitor or censor yourself around until I felt like nothing more than a weight around your neck, tugging you back every time you tried to move forward._

_If failing you was a sad disappointment, then failing our unborn child was an anguish-ridden disaster. I wasn't built for responsibility and yet I felt the burden of two ruined lives anyway, and I knew then that I had to leave before I could damage anything else. I told you I needed time even though the words felt like ashes on my tongue, and when that didn't work I told you I needed to heal away from you. The glassy tint of your eyes once you realized I didn't think I could heal while you were around just solidified my need to leave so you could be happy again._

_The years I've spent apart from you since then have been filled with the same pain, though they're made worse by the sharp filter of regret coloring them. I've spent years telling myself that it would be better if I stayed away; that you didn't deserve to be burdened with someone who could hurt you like I have, and yet I see now that all I've done is cause you pain. Your letters are bittersweet - to have the reminders of all we had only reinforces what I let go of, and each year the remorse I feel only grows deeper._

_I thought that by leaving you I would somehow forget the sadness that followed me like an extra limb, but instead knowing I've caused so much sorrow for us both makes the depression unbearable. I've fixed my medication, I've followed all my therapist's advice and despite all this, I'm still brought to my knees by thoughts of you alone and aching. Your suffering is mine, and it's led to me realize that mine was always yours too. I thought you were too expectant; that you put too much pressure on me to heal when it felt impossible to do so. I see now that you were as scared and helpless as I was, and I'm so sorry I didn't see it before._

_There are days when I'm convinced I should find you and try to fix this hurt that separates us, and then there are others where I think contacting you would be the most unfair thing I could do._

_I can't erase the last years of us or remove the memories that gut you. I can't make it so the past ten years haven't happened, and I question whether you could truly forgive me for leaving you. Mostly though, I feel regret. I should have sent you the letter I wrote in reply to the first one you sent me - instead I allowed it to sit on my desk for a decade, adding to it each year and letting the feelings inside me fester._

_I thought you would write one letter for closure and that would be all. That first year, reading your words sparked a pain which seemed as if it would swallow me whole. You spoke of wishing to forget me and yet I drowned in memories each day, and I knew then that I would always hold you back if I replied. Then the second letter arrived and you sounded nothing less than heartbroken. You talked of kissing me and I swear that my lips felt just a touch colder for weeks afterward._

_Yet I didn't write back, because in a way it didn't feel as if you had written to me at all. It felt like you were exorcising your demons and ridding yourself of every last memory. That wasn't something I could bear, because it didn't take long for me to realize that you are the best part of every memory I have. Each year I read the story of our relationship through your words and relive the love we had. But then there are always other words - words of loss and hurt and grief, and the hope I feel withers._

_I had hoped you would move on - not in the way that a secretly bitter ex might say it, but truly - and yet you clearly haven't, and I'm more adrift than ever. I wanted nothing more than for you to be happy, Edward. Knowing you aren't feels like another mark on my long list of mistakes._

_I lay in bed at night sometimes and wonder if it's fate that won't allow us to let go. I may be lost now, but I trust there will always be something between us that brings me home to you again. It's time for me to be the strong one now._

_Forever,_

_your Bella_

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**A/N: I know you may have questions about these letters, but trust that they're all answered in the next chapter.**

**I set up a Facebook earlier today, which I'll put a link to on my profile. You can also search 'Lellabeth Fic' and it should come up. ****I'm still trying to find my way around it, so it'd be lovely to hear from some of you!**

**Please let me know what you think.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks to Astro, always.**

**This chapter takes place a few days after chapter 10.**

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December 31, 2011

I'm just wrapping my scarf around my neck when I hear a knock on the door. I curse and rush down the stairs, grabbing the letter to Bella as I make my way out. I'm prepared to tell whoever's there that I have things to do and already have the envelope held up as proof, when I open the door and almost trip over my own feet.

All I can think of is those over-dramatic action movies where something pivotal happens and the whole scene slows down, the camera panning in for a close-up. Your body is more curved and softer than I remember; your hair shorter with strands of gray mixed in to the dark brown. I don't allow myself to hope until I look at your face, and when I do I have to grip the doorframe so I don't fall. You're older, but also unmistakably more beautiful. There are lines around your eyes that remind me how long it's been since we last saw one another, and the smile that crosses my mouth is bittersweet. We stand either side of the threshold of our house, cataloguing the changes in one another as tears mark both our faces.

You reach your hand toward me and it feels reflexive when my own moves in tandem, and as our palms touch I feel at home for the first time in years. You let out a small giggle at my sigh, and the sound catapults me back into a million memories.

"How... why are you here?" I whisper, too afraid that speaking will shatter whatever's passing between us.

"You didn't write. I didn't get a letter this year and I- I was worried you'd decided to stop them," you whisper back, and it's like a balm for every broken part of me.

I can't lie, though - not this time. "I did," I say, and the way you immediately avert your eyes makes it hard to go on. "I did, but I had this one still to send."

You look up as if you're just now noticing the envelope clutched tightly between my fingers, and when you reach for it I have to fight not to snatch it back. I invite you in and we sit on the same sofa we used to, your hands trembling as you pull out the letter. I don't want to watch you read it but I'm not willing to part from you for any length of time, so I try my best not to pay attention to your reaction. You unfold the pages and it feels as if you're unfolding me, peeling back the layers until I'm spread out for you to see.

I wince with every sniffle and raspy breath I hear, my face resting in my hands so I don't have to see you leave me again. I remember writing how angry I was with you and how I wanted to find someone else, and my heart sinks as I realize I've let you slip through my fingers again. I expect to hear the door shutting seconds after you put the papers back on the coffee table in front of us, and yet it still feels like a wrecking ball has crashed into the small of my back when the click echoes across the house.

I hunch forward and press my forehead against my knees, suppressing the urge to smash my fist into any glass I can find. Your perfume is still the same after all this time, and it penetrates the air around me until I can't breathe. I pace around the house in choppy strides, kicking every door I pass in the hopes physical pain will cancel out the agony zinging around my head.

When I hear a knock at the door minutes later, I freeze. I swallow hard, trying not to let hope get the better of me. I make my way to the door and open it cautiously, swinging it wide when I see your swollen eyes and shaking body. I pull you into me and you slump, crying into my chest as you tell me how sorry you are and how sorry you've always been. I rub your back until you quieten down, and then I tilt your face up toward mine and press a circle of kisses around each eye.

"I'm so sorry, Edward. Every year... and I couldn't. I didn't know how, and I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Please stop crying, though. I've seen enough of your tears to last a lifetime."

You half-laugh and half-cry as you wipe the back of your hand across your eyes, the slightest smile on your lips as you look at me. "What if these are happy tears?"

I swear, the hope I feel is a living force inside me.

"Happy tears?"

You press your lips to mine with the slightest hint of pressure. There are lingering tears around your mouth that make it sloppy, but because it's from you it feels perfect.

"You see, Edward, I wrote you letters too. I would read yours each year and I would write back."

"I never got them, though."

The smile drops from your face slightly, and I'm even more confused than before.

"I never sent them. I just wrote them, and kept them for- well, I kept them," you say, but I know your nervous habits too well to ignore any.

"Why did you keep them?"

"The words... they were hollow. They weren't actions, and I knew that was what you really deserved. Because I think somewhere inside me, I knew this would happen. I didn't think that you'd stop writing, but I always felt that something would lead me back to you eventually. The only thing in question was if you would ever want me back."

I lick my dry lips, trying to bolster my courage. "What do the letters say?"

This time when you laugh, there's no cry - just a high-pitched, clear sound that I revel in. "They say a lot of things, and don't think I'm giving you spoilers just because you're cute."

You've seen me naked countless times and had me inside you almost as many, but there's something about your compliment that makes me feel bashful and exposed.

"You think I'm cute, huh?"

Your hand reaches for mine again. "May I be brutally honest, Edward?"

My hope deflates a little with those words, but I force myself to nod anyway. You run your tongue across your lips and I'm still as mesmerized by it as I've always been, following the movement with my eyes. It's only the hard squeeze of your hand around mine that makes me aware of what I'm doing, and I nod for you to go on with what you were saying.

"You're still gorgeous, Edward. You always have been and it hasn't changed. I'm surprised you didn't get that girlfriend after all," you say, your lips tightening around the last words. I open my mouth to speak but you interrupt, holding up your free hand and stopping me.

"That was a stupid thing to say. I'm sorry. The truth is ... I love you. I've never stopped loving you. I just got a little lost along the way, but you pulled me through it. Every year when I would get the letter, it would make me laugh and cry and ache and I missed you more than anything. So really, when I didn't get a letter this year I thought I'd left it too late. I thought you'd finally given up on waiting and that's why I had to come. I can't let you go, and I'm sorry I ever did. I was foolish and blinded, and I will make it up to you every day for the rest of our lives if you let me."

"We might be different now," I say, and I want to take back the words as soon as they're out.

"We are different people now, and that's why I'm here. Who I was before, that was destructive - to me, and to you. I hid so much to keep you from seeing what I thought you didn't want ..."

"I have always wanted you. All the good and the bad, too. I love all of you, and it hurts me to think you didn't know that," I interject, and my voice is hoarse with tears when I'm through. "I know I didn't pay enough attention to you or what you were doing, and there's no one to blame for that but myself. I was selfish and I took you for granted, and I've paid for that for the last ten years. I wish you would have told me. I would have helped you. I tried to help you, and I tried so hard to do what you wanted. I thought the divorce was what you needed and I did it even though it broke my heart to, Bella."

Your eyes are watery again as you nod, and the dull thud in my chest tells me these aren't happy tears.

"I know it did, and I can't apologize enough. I thought that if I got a clean break then things would magically fix themselves. I wanted to think there was something wrong with us because I didn't want there to be anything wrong with me. The baby was my breaking point. I wanted so badly for us to have children, but what life could I offer them? A mother is supposed to fight for her children and I couldn't even do so for myself. I worried every day that I would damage them because of my depression, and when I found out I lost the baby it seemed as if I was already failing them, and you. I couldn't do it. I couldn't take the disappointment, and I'm so sorry."

By the end of your explanation you're flat-out sobbing, and I pull you back into my embrace. There's a lot to discuss and a lot to work on, but when I hold you there's nothing that could convince me we're wrong together. I kiss your hair and summon all the courage I have, channeling it into my next question.

"If you love me and you're here, does that mean you want to give things another go?"

"I want to make things work, Edward. I'm willing to do anything for that to happen. I've tried life without you, and it's miserable."

When we kiss, it's wet with both our tears. Our lips meet and mesh, and I know this time I won't let go.

**DB**

December 22nd, 2012

_Dear Bella,_

_I can't believe it's already been a year since we found each other again. This year has been tough, and at times I've wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel, and yet in the end I believe in you. I believe in us and what we share, and I think we can overcome anything life throws at us._

_As you prepare to marry me today (again), I want you to know my life is better when I'm with you. I don't have fancy messages or poetic words but I do have a heart that beats solely for you. You are my Earth and my sky and all that rests between, and the rest of my life will be happy now that you're in it. _

_Yours, always,_

_Edward_

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**A/N: Please let me know what you think. The next chapter will be the last.**


	13. Chapter 13

The alarm on my phone wakes me up with a start, and I scramble in the dark room to switch it off. My eyes are still bleary from sleep as I press the dismiss button, my stomach tying in knots when I see December 22 flashing brightly across the home screen. I wait for the inescapable nausea to overtake me, but instead I'm distracted by the butter yellow of the paint staining the back of my hand. I think of the walls of the room next to mine that bear the same colour; remember the contrast between that and the white crib that took me a day to build, and the only thing that spreads throughout my body is pure joy.

That increases tenfold when a small, warm hand rubs my cold shoulder, the tired voice that beckons me back to bed causing the corners of my mouth to turn up. I move back under the comforter into the space that's warm from the heat of your body and press my chest against your back. You flinch when my chilled hand caresses the small bump of your stomach, but the way you push back into me a moment later soothes the seed of hurt. I move forward to kiss the nape of your neck, and already I know from now on December 22 will be filled with nothing but happiness.

**DB**

_Dear Little One,_

_It feels strange to be writing a letter to you even though you won't read it for years to come, but letters have a very special meaning for our family. Mommy laughed when I told her I wanted to write to you, but that's because she likes to call me sentimental. That means I like to cling on to things in my past that are important to me - though knowing I have you and your mother makes the future look much more exciting than anything that has come before._

_In a way, doing this for you makes being a daddy much more real. You're no longer just a wish but instead a gift we've been blessed with. I've put off writing to you because I needed to know you were strong and healthy before doing so, and knowing that you are is what's causing the tears smudging the ink as I write._

_You see, Mommy and I almost had a baby once before. It was when we were much younger and had only been married for a few years, and Mommy wasn't doing so well then. She's better now, but sometimes she still gets sad for no reason at all - not because she doesn't love us but just because, and that's okay. We didn't even know there was a baby until there wasn't anymore, and that's why we're being so careful with you._

_We prayed and hoped that you would be okay, and I wish I could explain how happy we were to hear you will be. I haven't told anyone this, but I think your brother or sister is looking down on us from Heaven and making sure you're well, and I thank them every day for it. You are our second chance to be parents, Little One, and we promise to do everything possible to show you how much we care always._

_Life has been full of bumps for your mother and me, but how much we love one another has never been in doubt. One of the most important things we have to teach you is that you must never give up. Though I wish we could protect you from anything that may hurt you, eventually something will and how you react to that will shape your path from then on. Your mother and I never gave up on one another even when everything suggested that we should, and the love we share is proof of why you should strive to work through the hard times, even when it hurts to do so._

_Know that regardless of what happens, Mommy and I will always be here to help you through. Already you are so much a part of me that I can't imagine being without you – I speak to you through Mommy's tummy each night. Can you hear me, Little One? Sometimes you kick and I'm sure you can, and it feels like another example of how my heart speaks to yours always. I wonder if that's why mine feels so full all the time._

_You may only be a small shadow on a screen right now, but already you have filled our lives with so much happiness. We can't wait to meet you._

_I love you beyond measure._

_Daddy_

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**A/N: I'd like to thank Astro one last time, just for being herself. I couldn't have done this without her.**

**Mostly though, I'd like to thank you - for reading, for following and favoriting, for the wonderful reviews. So many people have spoken to me on Facebook or Twitter or even via PMs here about how much they enjoy the story, and I'm so grateful. Your support has been beyond anything I could have imagined.**

**For the final time - please let me know what you thought.**


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